


Marks Across Your Body That Don't Belong To Me

by orphan_account



Series: Inescapables [1]
Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Break Up, Hidden Depths, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 14:57:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5338319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d been self-conscious about his chest since he found out what a soul-mark was. The mark was hideous, cross over Kaoru’s left side of his chest, just below his nipple. The shape all wrong from what Kaoru had wanted, what he’d deserved. The lines harsh and more like scars than the beautiful delicate thin lines everyone else seemed to have. The colouring harsh and bright, blinding anyone that had laid eyes on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marks Across Your Body That Don't Belong To Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Girorodesu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Girorodesu/gifts).



Kaoru eyes wandered to Kyoya worryingly, his hand clutched tightly at the edges of his shirt. The fabric making soft noises as Kaoru frantically kept his chest covered. His lips quivered, his teeth jumping and hitting each other with each movement of Kyoya’s hands.

“Kaoru? It’s okay, you don’t have to,” Kyoya spoke, his voice soft with encouragement, but in a way that wasn’t pushy or forcing. The words cooling the hot ripples of anxiety sweeping through Kaoru’s body. Yet at the same time, the ripples grew thicker with apprehension and doubt.

Kaoru shook his head frantically, his face scrunching uncomfortably and stubbornly. His nose pinched up like a pig, his eyes balled up like wrinkled prunes and cheeks as big as apples on each side. The hand at his shirt getting lighter as his shoulders shivered with the movement of his head. Kaoru’s hair moving out of its perfect posture and into a messy set of strands wandering over his eyes.

“Just, don’t overreact,” Kaoru mumbled, his fingers getting lighter at the collar of the shirt. His fingers leaving wrinkles in the creamy ivory shirt set on his shoulders.

He’d been self-conscious about his chest since he found out what a soul-mark was. The mark was hideous, cross over Kaoru’s left side of his chest, just below his nipple. The shape all wrong from what Kaoru had wanted, what he’d deserved. The lines harsh and more like scars than the beautiful delicate thin lines everyone else seemed to have. The colouring harsh and bright, blinding anyone that had laid eyes on it.

“I’ve seen some strange soul-marks, yours can’t be that bad,” Kyoya jokes, referring to the many patients he’d seen over five years with skin problems, or more specifically soul-mark problems.

He’d seen everything from shifting colours or patterns to infectious scabs. Soul-marks weren’t partially dangerous or easy to infect (they were a part of most people’s body structures) but that didn’t mean things like hair or nails couldn’t grow on them. It wasn’t the prettiest job in the world, but Kyoya was glad to have it.

“But of course, I’d like to think it’s decent. It should represent me after all,” Kyoya continues, a wide smile on his lips. It was different to the ones Kaoru had seen before, it seemed more truthful than the others, like every scrap of chalk on the board (that was Kyoya) was wiped clean, leaving something undeniably real and clean. Nothing was hidden behind his smile, nothing was kept from him. Everything was laid out for Kaoru to see.

Kyoya’s eyes seeming brighter and full of love and tiny dimples spreading across his cheeks like the soul-mark Kaoru had deserved. His cheeks puffy, the defined cheek bones still evident and easy to see. His lips a shade pinker, as if Kyoya had spent time and time licking over them with nerves or anticipation.

Kaoru took in a deep breath, his heart warm with Kyoya’s expression but his hand cold with worry. Slowly, his fingers let go completely of the material, his eyes completely closed. Moving down, his fingers wrapped around the next button, his eyes fluttering open to Kyoya.

His eyes scanned around Kyoya’s face, skimming over his facial features in search for something negative. Searching for anything that could mean Kyoya hated in in anyway or form. He had to know that Kyoya could be trusted, that Kyoya wouldn’t care. But there wasn’t really any guarantee of that, was there?

His fingers undone the buttons quickly, the phrase ‘get it over with,’ chanting in his mind over and over. Until there were no buttons, just a cool air on his chest coupled with is nails scratching slightly at his skin.

His mind only vaguely aware of it, the rest of it focused on the dread and worry racking in his bones. His arms threatened to shake violently and throw themselves in every direction, in effort to distract him from the cool air on that one area of his chest. His eyes tried to cry, trying to feel anything else than the fidgeting and frantic movement of his fingers.

The mark was completely visible to Kyoya now, the pink and scarred outline of a princely crown too solid and hard for his eyes to focus on. The lines thick and wide with tiny lines covering them, making Kyoya’s stomach swirl. The blotchy gold colours exceeding the outlines and burning Kyoya’s eyes with the strong intensity of it. The spotted scabs a dark brown colour, the texture bumpy. The edges of the scabs yellow and flaky.

It wasn’t Kyoya’s. The mark wasn’t Kyoya’s. It couldn’t be Kyoya’s. It could only be one person’s.

“Kaoru,” Kyoya spoke, his voice quiet and low as if he didn’t know what to say. The sound dull and dead against Kaoru’s ears, the light and fuzziness of Kyoya’s past expression completely destroyed by his own voice.

“Don’t hurt yourself like that,” Kyoya continued, his fingers wrapping around Kaoru’s fingers before pulling them away from his chest and into his lap. His fingers soft and calming against Kaoru’s shaky fingers, reeling the softness of Kyoya back into its rightful place: Kaoru.

“Don’t blink, not yet,” Kaoru demanded, his voice breaking at the edges and his eyes breaking with it. Small drips of tears falling down his face to rest at the middle of his cheeks. His eyelashes fluttering in attempt to keep anymore from escaping. His breath uneven, as if he had run miles and miles.

Kyoya shook his head in disagreement, his eyes closing with the motion. His fingers still gripping Kaoru’s tightly, the tips of them entwining with Kaoru’s closely like a claw. The hold getting even tighter as Kyoya opened his eyes, his lips quivering slightly.

His breath hitched slightly as his vision was blasted with a strong red, the colour wrapping tightly around Kaoru’s neck like a collar. The red turning metallic and steel like, the hue morphing into a shackle with chains pouring from the front. The chains looking heavy and strong, trailing to somewhere/someone Kyoya couldn’t help but identify.

“You’re a shackle,” Kyoya uttered, almost in disbelief, the idea finally racking through his brain like a hammer to a nail. His brain heavy with anger and irritation, weighing his whole body down to the floor. His body drained with sadness that he couldn’t understand.

Kaoru was an inescapable, or a shackle, however you identify the term. He was thrown away by his soulmate for another. Kaoru, the most beautiful person he had ever met, had been thrown away like trash. Had been bound to his soulmate without choice. Had been forced to live with heavy shackles around his neck for all his life. Had always known that he’d never be happy with his soulmate, that his soulmate effectively cheated on him without them ever meeting.

Kyoya’s body moved by itself, his body disconnected from his brain. As if his brain didn’t know how to work, didn’t know how to control, as if he’d lost everything within the space of ten minutes. His legs moving to stand up, his bones shaky and unstable. His hands cooperating and pressing against the ground to support his knees.

“Kyoya,” Kaoru mutters, reaching for Kyoya clumsily. His voice broken and squeaky, the hyperventilating noises making Kyoya’s heart sink further. Kaoru’s face covered with tears that had not fallen for so many years, scratching metaphoric claw marks at Kyoya’s chest. His fingers scrambling to grab at Kyoya, his whole body movements desperate and needy. The contrast of this Kaoru, and the one he’d fell in love with hitting Kyoya in the face like a bowling ball.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Kaoru stuttered, managing to grab hold of Kyoya’s sleeve, balling up the material in his fists as if Kyoya would turn into air if he didn’t hold on tight enough. His breath getting more and more uneven, the sounds powerless and wobbly.

“I love you too,” Kyoya replied, his voice his low and dull, his hands moving to untangle Kaoru’s arms from his sleeve. Kyoya’s whole body heavy with the thought of the life Kaoru had had to live. His soul weak with the (probably) huge amount of soul therapy Kaoru had to go through since the age of fifteen. His heart physically aching as he realised that one person Kaoru’s soulmate cheated on, had been with him for his whole life. His voice choking at the thought.

“Don’t go, Kyoya please, don’t go. I love you, I love you. Don’t go,” Kaoru begged, his arms falling to the ground as he tried to catch Kyoya’s sleeve again. His cheeks coated with tears that seemed like they would never stop falling. His bottom half unable to stand, the shaking in his knees too violent and sudden.

“I have to, I can’t look at you without seeing that. That thing on your neck,” Kyoya uttered, his lips curling into a snarl and his feet picking up pace. His body getting lighter and lighter with every step he took away from Kaoru, the image of the metallic red slowly burning out of his brain. Leaving the perfect image of the Kaoru he knew yesterday.

Kaoru was broken from the start. But his mind and body wasn’t ready to believe it yet. He didn’t think he’d ever be ready for it.

“Kyoya, don’t please. Please. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t go. I love you, I love you,”


End file.
